Pir. You may.
Samp. She has no blood. From her first, an honest
Tradesman's wife, who left her very rich and
Handsome, the duke (as he still keeps a
Kennel for that purpose) had her presented
To him for his game; remov'd her from the
Cuckoo's nest into another sphere; but with all
Caution and private sleight; and you must
Imagine, now she spreads a larger wing;
Stirs not abroad, but studded like the night
With flames; and at length becomes the court's
Discourse and wonder; but still keeps[28] the
Country her retiring place.
Pir. Unknown!
Samp. Or unsuspected, as the duke's instruments dealt it;
And the young Henrique being in those parts
With our king's brother for sport, casually (as 'twas plotted)
Visits her house, falls in love, and marries her. This
Is the epitome.
Pir. I hope the Duke Bereo had no dull hand in't.
Samp. 'Tis thought (only by me, sir,) [he] keeps his
Acquaintance to this day.
Pir. It must be fatally answer'd somewhere;
Heaven has a justice.
Samp. The preparation makes huge noise.
Pir. 'Tis well the king's a guest; their triumph
Might miscarry else.
Samp. The king gives her in church. Methinks
The Count de Flame must needs be all a-flame at it:
And I believe, sir, your affront bleeds freshly in him.